


middle of the ride

by VillainousTalking (rainbowshoes)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Archery, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Dyslexia, First Kiss, Kid Fic, M/M, Medical Experimentation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SHIELD Agent Clint Barton, War Veteran Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-08-23 05:41:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20237662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowshoes/pseuds/VillainousTalking
Summary: bucky's son harley is invited to a birthday party, so bucky takes him to the archery range a few blocks away. he meets kate, one of harley's few friends, and kate's guardian, clint. bucky and clint both are disasters, which comes as no surprise to anyone who knows them - especially natasha - but they get by with some help from their friends.





	1. Chapter 1

"Well, g'wan," Bucky said, nudging Harley forward with a hand on his shoulder. Harley eyed the room in front of them warily for a moment. Bucky sighed. He was picking up on  _ all  _ of Bucky's bad habits, and Bucky wasn't sure how to stop it. Still, he didn't protest as Harley walked along beside him. They stuck close to the wall until they reached the emergency exit near the corner. 

"There's another one on the back wall," Harley said, nodding at the opposite end of the archery range. "Probably not a good idea unless you're already on that side, though, huh." 

Bucky huffed. "Even if it's just kids with practice bows, I've had enough of people shooting at me for a lifetime, kiddo." He added a slightly strained grin. Harley just shrugged and nodded. "Now, who's party is this?" 

"Over there, in the purple," Harley said. He nodded down the firing lanes. "That's Kate Bishop." Bucky's eyes widened a little. He knew of the Bishops. They were almost always in the papers for charity work. "We have some classes together."

"Well, damn," Bucky said quietly. He huffed. "You should at least go say happy birthday. She invited you and all." He looked around again, still feeling out of place. "Why did she want her party here?"

"She does archery in competitions and stuff," Harley said with a shrug. "She loves it. And her teacher is like, her uncle or something. Not really? I'm not sure. She's always talking about the guy, though. And he swears he can get her to the Olympics in a few years." Harley shrugged. 

"Well, might as well go figure out how to shoot a bow," Bucky said, only a little uncomfortable with the idea. It wasn't a gun, at the least. Harley had asked, and Bucky absolutely hated telling him no for just about anything after the shit Harley had had to put up with, but that was one area Bucky put his foot down and refused to budge. He'd also die before he let Harley throw himself away on the fucking military, too, but thankfully Harley didn't seem to have any desire for something like that. At least not now. Then again, he was only ten.

"Yeah, well," Harley said, looking over the room again. "Just stay here, yeah? Or go out if you need a breather. I've got my phone, so you can just let me know. Or I can call you when we're all finished."

Bucky ruffled Harley's hair a bit. "Quit worrying about your old man and go have some fun, kid." He nudged Harley's shoulder again and sent him off. Harley walked away and found one of the attendants to get a practice bow and wound up in a shooting lane next to an older boy. Kate was fourteen, but Harley was enrolled in a gifted school thanks to a scholarship, so it wasn't much of a surprise that he had older friends. Bucky was long past the point of hoping his kid didn't try to grow up too fast.

He watched as the door opened again. His stomach felt tight when he recognized the facial hair. Tony Stark. Tony gave him a slight wave, but he didn't seem like he was interested in talking to Bucky, so Bucky just nodded in return. Tony was too busy corralling his own kid, a boy of six. He wasn't sure why Peter had been invited, but it was clear he and Kate knew each other when Kate stopped shooting to give the kid a warm, affectionate hug. Bucky watched as Tony greeted a tall blond guy with a wide grin and a half-hug and the blond guy laughed at whatever Tony said. He supposed that was the teacher Kate liked to talk about. He cursed himself again for not having met any of these people before when it became increasingly clear that all the other adults seemed to know each other at least somewhat. 

He was more focused on watching Harley frown at the bow in his hands, then shift his feet and make tiny changes to his stance. The blond guy stopped by, adjusted Harley's hands and arms a little, showed him with wide gestures things Bucky recognized as ways to breathe and how to take the shot between breaths, and then cheered for Harley when he shot just off center of the target he'd been aiming at. Bucky smiled, small but proud. His kid was good at a lot of things, and even if he hadn't wanted aim to be one of them, it looked like Harley was blessed with that, too. He couldn't find it in himself to be disappointed with Harley looking so quietly proud. 

Then Harley pointed Bucky out, the blond headed for him, and Bucky suddenly reformed his opinion. His kid was a fucking menace and totally did  _ not  _ deserve birthday cake. Absolutely not. He plastered on a slightly more neutral expression for the blond guy, but couldn't bring himself to smile, and he certainly didn't reach out to take the offered hand. 

"Hi, I'm Clint Barton." He didn't really seem put off when Bucky refused to take his hand, just put it in his pocket. "Kate's said a lot about Harley. You're his dad, right?" 

"Let me guess, he said to look for the clean hobo with the murder stare?" Bucky asked, rolling his eyes. Clint laughed and nodded. "Yeah, that's my kid. Fuck knows why he claims me, but yeah. Bucky Barnes." Bucky studied Clint for a moment. "So you're Kate's archery teacher slash uncle?"

Clint rolled his eyes and shook his head. "She calls me her uncle, but I'm really not. I've been teaching her archery since she was ten, though. And her dad's sort of shitty, so." Clint shrugged. "I definitely know all about little demons who have  _ no respect for their elders _ !" Clint turned his head and shouted it down the lanes. Kate lifted her middle finger in the air, and Bucky snorted as Clint laughed. "She's great, though. Made nationals last year, but got third. She'll get first this year, with all the trick shots she's mastered."

Bucky nodded a little. "You were a sniper?" 

Clint seemed a little taken aback by the question, but nodded slowly. "Yeah? How did you-"

"I watched you when you were giving Harley some pointers," Bucky said with a shrug. He took his left hand out of his pocket and wiggled his metal fingers. "Sniper through four tours. Lost my arm two years ago." He jerked his head to the side where Tony was standing with a rail-thin redhead over by Peter. "Stark nabbed me for a prosthetics program." 

"Jesus," Clint said. "Well, if you've got Tony on your side, you're in good hands." He brushed some of his shaggy hair to the side and turned his head to reveal a bright purple hearing aid tucked neatly behind his ear. "He made these for me. Keeps giving me new ones whenever he makes new models. I think I'm secretly a guinea pig, but it's cool." He shrugged and shoved his hand back in his pocket. "I usually hang out at all of the school functions for Kate, but I've never seen you around?" He said it like a question, which was sort of nice. 

"I'm working on it," Bucky said with a shrug. "Harley usually catches a ride with Jefferson." He didn't offer an explanation. 

"Well, hey, man, we're glad to see you. If you need anything, let us know. I won't be far, plus Tony's here, and Jefferson should be here in a bit, too. Maybe Gloria. Do you know any of the others?"

"No." Bucky shrugged. "I'll get around to it."

"No pressure," Clint said easily. "And hey, the door says it's alarmed," he gestured to the door beside Bucky, "but it's not. I'll usually sneak out there for a cigarette or two if I have the time. So feel free. There's a rock by the door. Make sure the door doesn't close, or you'll get locked out there, and it's kind of a pain to get out." He shrugged. "So much for being an emergency exit, right? The place next door refuses to move their dumpsters, though, so." He shrugged. Kate shouted for him. "Gotta go, but stick around for cake and stuff, yeah?" He grinned, then walked away to go stand by Kate, who punched him affectionately on the shoulder before asking him a question. 

Bucky thought a cigarette sounded like a damn good idea. He waited until Harley caught his attention, then he signed quickly that he was stepping outside for a moment. Harley nodded and refocused on his target. Bucky slipped outside and found the rock, nudged it between the door and the jamb with his boot, then propped himself against the wall and dug for his cigarettes. 

He was glad Becca had taken the time to start teaching Harley sign for him. He'd been twelve shades of fucked up when the Black Hawk he'd been in had gone down in a ball of flames. His left arm was gone, his hearing had been gone for a while but had come back, he'd been in an actual coma for about a month, he had burn scars and other scars all down his left side, and he still limped a little on the bad days from where he'd had a broken femur. It had taken a long time for them to deem him well enough to be released, but he still wasn't able to hear for almost a year after the explosion, at least not entirely. He, Becca, and Harley had learned sign, and while he didn't see Becca all that often anymore, he and Harley still used sign a lot. He figured it couldn't hurt for Harley to have a couple extra languages under his belt, and Bucky was helping him with his Spanish and Russian, too. 

He was nearly finished with his cigarette when someone came to the door from the inside. He was standing with his back to the opposite wall so no one could see him. "Dammit, Clint, you left the door open again," someone said, sounding mildly annoyed. Bucky tried to open his mouth and get the words out fast enough, but the rock was kicked away and the door yanked shut before he could. He sighed. He didn't want to call Harley away from his fun, not yet. He knew the basic plan for the party: everyone would figure out how to shoot and practice for a while, then they'd move to another room where they could shoot different kinds of targets and make a game out of it. The winner at the end would get a prize.

He looked to the end of the alley. Sure enough, there were three large dumpsters blocking it. That was a major violation. He wondered if the city had been notified, then promptly dismissed it. The owners of the place next door probably didn't care in the slightest. He was stuck, unless he felt like climbing through trash to get out. He looked enough like a hobo with his permanent stubble-beard and loose clothes and long hair. He didn't need to smell like one, too. 

He grabbed his phone from his pocket and sent Harley a text.  _ You guys move on to the fun stuff? _

_Ya_, was the almost immediate reply. _Whre r u?_ _M ass kiking_. Harley had a lot of trouble with spelling and word order because of his dyslexia, so Bucky had to take extra effort to make his own texts perfect to read to help with the assistive app on Harley's phone that helped to keep the letters still for him. 

_ Still outside _ , Bucky replied. He tapped his phone on his chin for a moment.  _ Someone shut the door. Can't get back in _ .

There wasn't an immediate response. Bucky wasn't worried, exactly. He just waited. Harley would either tell someone to come let him in, leave him there until he was done, or come and get him himself. It was always a toss up. Harley hated that he smoked. Bucky didn't blame him for that, of course, but Harley could be a bit vicious about it when he wanted to be. He'd locked Bucky out on the fire escape, once.

It only took a few minutes for the door to swing open. Bucky reached out and caught it with his left hand, making sure it didn't swing shut again. Clint stepped out a little further, looking around the door, then smiled. "Sorry about that. Kate thought it was me out here. She locks me out all the damn time. Likes to make me crawl through the garbage to get back inside, like that's some sort of penance for smoking." Clint snorted and waved Bucky inside. The lanes were all empty. 

"Who's with the kids?" Bucky asked, a little sliver of paranoia wriggling through his gut.

"Most of the parents," Clint said. "Kate's leading the games, showing them how they work and all the tricks. She was doing that, anyway." Clint shrugged. "You good? Want a drink or anything?"

Bucky shook his head. "Really should go apologize to Harley. He says he's kicking ass. Never wanted him to get my marksman shit, but I guess I never had a choice. Gotta support him, now he's figured it out." Bucky gave Clint a rueful smile. Clint led the way through the big room to a side door on the opposite end. 

"He really is good, especially for a beginner," Clint said. "And hey, this isn't like shooting a rifle or anything. Takes a bit more skill than point and shoot." He winked, and Bucky knew he was joking at least a little. "It's great you aren't freaking out over it, though. And hey, if he ever wants more lessons, we do that here. Kate's travel for competitions won't start til summer, and even then it's mostly on the weekends." 

"We'll see," Bucky said with a shrug. "I'm not sure I can even afford lessons for him." He hated telling Harley no, ever, but too many times he didn't have a choice. His kid deserved so much more than what he could give him. 

"If he likes it, and he's serious, then just let me know," Clint said. "We'll figure something out." He pulled open the door and held it for Bucky, and for once, Bucky didn't feel like someone was doing it because he was down one arm. It just seemed like an unconscious, yet polite, thing Clint had done automatically. 

"I'll talk to him," Bucky said with a nod. Whatever it was, he'd try to get this one thing for Harley if he could. "How much even is a bow?"

"If you want something actually decent, that he could use in competitions? It's gonna run around four hundred bucks, and that's not including all the gear that goes with it." Bucky grimaced. "But hey, don't worry about any of that right now." Clint smiled, and Bucky didn't see a trace of pity, which was unusual. "We don't even know if Harley is interested, yet."

_ Speak of the devil _ , Bucky thought with a wry smile as Harley walked over to them at that exact moment. "Interested in what?" 

"Archery," Clint said automatically, grinning from ear to ear. "Like, for competitions and stuff. What Kate does."

Harley frowned. "I'm not good enough for that." 

"Sure, not yet," Clint agreed. "But you could be. Just takes practice." 

"It's up to you, kid," Bucky said with a shrug. He tugged Harley to the side a couple steps. "You know I don't like this." Harley nodded and looked at the bow in his hand. Bucky nudged his chin and made Harley look up at him. He figured a deaf guy probably knew sign, but Harley knew enough Russian by now, so he switched to that language instead. "I also know I have to say no to you too much. Way too much. But if this is what you want? We'll figure it out."

Several sharp claps got Bucky's attention, and he went a little rigid as he snapped his head up to look for the sound. Kate was standing in front of the room to get everyone's attention. "Right! So, the scores for this round are: Harley, Gwen, and Miles, then me!" She laughed. 

"She started with minus twenty points to make it more fair for the rest of us," Harley said quietly. Bucky was stunned Harley was in  _ first place _ , though, and he hadn't ever touched a bow before, to his knowledge. 

"The next game is a little harder," Clint said, taking over smoothly as he stepped into place beside her. He gestured to a giant square, probably ten by ten. It was patterned in black and red, with card numbers and shapes. "We're playing poker, kiddos! You wanna hit as many of the faces or aces as you can, just to make it simple." 

"Sweet," Harley said. Bucky looked down and found Harley smirking. They'd played a  _ lot  _ of poker while Bucky was laid up in the hospital. Steve had taught Harley to count cards and cheat like a mother fucker. Bucky doubted those tricks would work with this game. 

"Last place goes first," Kate said, ushering Peter forward. Bucky smiled a little. Peter looked like he was having fun, despite all the much older kids and being in last place. 

They watched several kids shoot, but when Gwen stepped up for her turn, Bucky looked at Harley again. "I just want you to be honest with me, yeah?" Harley gave Bucky a confused look. "About the archery. If this is what you really want to do, tell me. It's not far from the apartment, you already know Kate, and I'm pretty sure I could swing the cost for the classes." He could easily take an extra shift at Luke's every week. It would mean less time with Harley, but Harley was wise well beyond his years for a ten-year-old. He knew exactly what it was like, sacrificing one thing to gain something else. 

Harley looked at the bow in his hand again, then over to Kate. "Yeah," he said. "I think I want to try this for as long as I can." 

"Okay then," Bucky said. He smiled. "I'll talk to Clint about lessons for you after the games are over." Harley smiled, a little shyly. Then it was his turn, and Bucky whistled along with the others who were clapping when Harley genuinely beat Kate's score at the card-shoot game, even if it was only by a narrow margin. 

Harley was given a small cash prize, which he tucked carefully into his pocket, and then they migrated back to the bigger room, which had been filled with purple and black balloons, a giant cake, the gifts everyone had been instructed to leave at the front counter when they'd entered, and even streamers. Everyone piled around Kate and sang happy birthday, and then they grabbed cake while she began to open her presents one-by-one. She squeezed Harley into a hug and gave him a noogie when she unwrapped the slightly battered copy of a  _ Green Arrow _ comic book she'd been hunting for ages. Bucky and Harley had found it among his own stash of comics, and Bucky hadn't minded parting with it one bit. There were others, too, ones Harley swore Kate didn't have. It hadn't cost Bucky anything to give them up, and she was pleased as punch with the gift. 

Clint was hanging back, like Bucky, stuffing his face with a huge slice of chocolate cake, and Bucky edged up beside him while they watched Kate swing Peter up on her shoulders before opening her gift from him. 

"Harley wants to give it a shot," Bucky said. Clint flinched a little, but he was quick to recover and smile brightly. "So, how's this work? How much are lessons, and when, and all that?"

"Thirty bucks an hour," Clint said, and Bucky knew immediately he was lowballing that figure. He'd Googled it, earlier, and knew the lessons should cost more than that. He figured he could  _ probably  _ afford sixty an hour, if Harley didn't take more than two lessons a week. He narrowed his eyes at Clint, who noticed. "Look, I charge Bishop one-thirty an hour. He doesn't even  _ notice _ . And Kate's here six days a week. Trust me when I say he more than makes up for it. Plus, Kate left her old bow with me here. It's bright blue, but I can always paint it or whatever. It's too much for the kids who do this once or twice and don't come back, and the ones who stick with it usually have their own. She doesn't need it, and she won't mind if Harley takes it."

"I don't like charity," Bucky said with a sigh, running his hand through his hair and knocking his bun askew. He grunted in frustration and yanked the hair tie out of his hair. The plates in his metal hand pinched and pulled, so he wouldn't be able to pull it back again, but it was fine. 

"It's gathering dust anyway," Clint said with a shrug. "And Harley can leave it here when he's done with it, pass it on to the next kid who needs it. Or until you can get him one of his own. Just - you know. Don't go buying one from somewhere without checking with me or Kate first? We know what to look for."

"Sure," Bucky said, though he wasn't happy with the idea. He could save up for a bow for Harley, though. And if Harley decided he wasn't all that interested anyway, it wouldn't be such a waste. "When does he need to come?"

"Let's start with three days a week?" Clint asked. "Kate always comes here after school, so he can catch the subway with her, if that's cool with you, and then I can walk him home, if you want. Or wherever."

"Nah, that's -" Bucky didn't know how to explain that he was too paranoid for that. "I'll swing by and get him. It'll be right around the time I head into work, anyway, and he stays with my buddy Steve on those nights until I can come and get him."

"Okay, sure," Clint said, accepting that easily. "I'll find arm guards and things like that for him and let you know how much those cost." 

"Thanks," Bucky said with a tight nod. He checked the time. It was nearly six. "I gotta go get Harley. We have to head back. Work, you know?"

"Sure do," Clint said with a nod. He moved his plate of cake to one hand and reached into his pocket and tugged out a couple of battered business cards with his free hand. "Here, man. Let me know when you want Harley to start, and I'll make sure Kate waits for him before she tears out of the school." He grinned. "Technically, I'm her legal guardian, so she has to listen to me at least some of the time."

Bucky frowned. "How's that work?" He held the card and his phone in his left hand and slowly added the information to his phone with his right. 

"Like I said, her dad's kinda shitty. And she wanted to go on all the trips for competitions, but she needed a parent or guardian for that. So Bishop gave me the guardianship to keep her out of his hair and let me take her instead." 

"Shit," Bucky muttered. He couldn't imagine giving up his kid like that. He'd had to give his ma the guardianship when he was overseas, but he'd known his ma never would have tried to keep Harley from him.

"Yeah," Clint said with a nod. "Anyway. You said you had to go, right? I'll talk to Kate, make sure she knows the deal. Just give me a heads up when you want Harley to start the lessons." He grinned and Bucky nodded. Bucky caught Harley's eye and signed to him that it was time to leave. Harley nodded, but he took a moment to say goodbye. Bucky didn't mind a bit. 

They headed home together, after, and Bucky felt a little hopeful. Maybe this was one way he could give back to his son for sacrificing so very much already. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> natasha is a terrible matchmaker

Bucky spied bright red hair come through the door of Luke's and smiled just a little. He passed a glass of pisswater beer to the guy who'd ordered it, then went to stand over at an empty portion of the bar. Natasha slipped into the barstool with her usual grace, a smirk on her face. Bucky turned, without her having to ask, and grabbed a bottle of vodka from the counter behind him, filled her glass, and turned. He almost dropped it when he found Clint sitting in the seat beside Natasha. He sat it heavily on the bar in front of her. Clint seemed just as surprised to see Bucky as he was to see Clint. 

"Clint," he said with a nod. 

"How's it going?" Clint asked, recovering and smiling. He turned to Natasha. "Nat, you didn't say Bucky worked here." 

"Didn't I?" she asked, and Bucky narrowed his eyes at her. "Must have slipped my mind." She shrugged and lifted her glass to take a drink. Bucky knew that was a lie, and judging from the suspicions look Clint was giving her, Clint did too.

Bucky looked at Clint and tried to repress any feelings of betrayal of the guy finding out where he worked. "What can I get you?" He was well aware that his paranoia was unhealthy. He was working on it. 

"Uh," Clint struggled for a moment. "Beer? Whatever you have on tap is fine." He stared at the bar. Bucky wasn't sure why Clint seemed so uncomfortable, but he was a little curious about it. He just didn't have enough energy or brainpower to devote to wondering all that much. 

"Clint is swine with no taste," Natasha said to Bucky in thick Russian. Bucky snorted, and Clint made an offended noise. 

"Harsh," Clint muttered. "Kicking a guy while he's down like that." That piqued Bucky's curiosity further. Clint knew Russian?

"Which part of you is down?" Natasha asked, her tone only slightly mocking. "You were happy to see me just a moment ago." She seemed wholly unconcerned as she sipped at her vodka. It was special ordered just for her. Bucky had asked Luke to get it in when he found out she was coming back to the States.

"And I'm still happy to see you," Clint said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her cheek. Natasha allowed it, which surprised Bucky. "Just, you know. Other shitty things happen." He was quick to drop his arm and leave her personal space. Bucky wondered at their relationship. Why had Natasha never mentioned Clint? Bucky only knew of a boy she'd once been very close with when she'd lived in a group home, but she'd never given a name… Was that Clint? 

Bucky set a glass of beer in front of Clint. "How do you know Nat?" He tried to tamp down on his hostile tone, but he didn't think he was very successful. 

Clint blinked in surprise. "How do  _ you _ know her?" 

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I've known Clint since we were children. We spent several years in the same group home together. And I know Bucky because we served together." Bucky nodded to show he remembered the stories she'd told him. He had some gaps in his memory here and there, but it usually wasn't much. He'd forgotten Becca's birthday and that his ma was dying of cancer while he was laid up in the hospital, but he'd mostly just forgotten details relating to his time in the military. He was fine with that.

"She's the entire reason I'm alive and not still back in the Stan," Bucky said, focusing on Clint. He crossed his arms over his chest and propped himself along the back counter behind the bar. "Drug my ass to cover until backup showed. Made sure I was still breathing when they got there."

"Shit," Clint muttered. He looked at Nat, then it was as if he'd had an epiphany. "Wait a sec. You're staying with  _ Bucky _ ?" He sounded offended, and that, in turn, offended Bucky. 

"Yes," she said simply. She sipped at her vodka. "Alpine and Liho get along, whereas Liho hates Lucky." Bucky didn't really like Natasha's cat. Liho liked to puke on the carpet, and it was a bitch to clean. But she was right, Harley's cat Alpine and Liho got along very well.

"Liho is a demon in cat form," Clint insisted. " _ No one _ hates Lucky!" He glanced at Bucky. "No offense, man, but I was kind of pissed when she told me she was back and she wasn't going to come stay with me." His shoulders hunched up around his ears a little, as if he was ashamed to admit it. 

"You have a one-bedroom apartment," Natasha said flatly. "Bucky has three. It wasn't a difficult choice." Bucky privately thought Natasha was being a little too harsh, but that was also one of the things he loved about her, so he wasn't going to call her on it unless it got a whole lot worse. 

"Plus she agreed to watch Harley for me most nights," Bucky said, wondering if that might lessen the sting for Clint. "Steve and Peggy don't mind, but it's still easier on Harley if he gets to stay at home and I don't have to wake him up in the middle of the night to take him home."

"Fair point," Clint said, but he sagged a little, looking defeated. "Still, wish I'd  _ known _ ." He elbowed Natasha in the ribs. "She didn't even tell me she was coming back." 

"Bucky's a better cook," Natasha said. Clint made a face, and Bucky snorted. He wasn't that good. "Clint lives on take out. He'd die of scurvy if pizza sauce wasn't made of tomatoes."

"That's just sad," Bucky said with a soft laugh. "Well, whatever. Nat's cool with you, and you teach Harley, so that's enough. Come over for dinner next Thursday. That's when I'm off work again. Any food allergies or special diet?" He was taking a chance with his paranoia, but he'd meant it. Natasha trusted Clint, and that meant a hell of a lot to him. Plus he was teaching Harley. What did Bucky really have to fear, after that? Logic didn't always trump his anxiety, but it worked sometimes. 

"He's eaten actual garbage," Natasha said. "No allergies, no special diet." She offered Bucky a small smile. She knew what a big deal it was for him to invite people into his space. 

"Okay then," Bucky said. "Harley asked for lasagna again, so that's what I'll make." He paused and grabbed an empty glass from another person at the bar, refilled it for them, and gave it back. He chewed his lip for a moment. "Just - have Natasha show you the way and let you in."

"I will," Natasha said, reaching across the bar to press her fingers to Bucky's forearm. He nodded tightly. She settled in her chair. "I also want pie."

"I can get one from that bakery you like," Clint volunteered. 

"Nah, she means mine," Bucky said, shaking his head with a small smile. "It's cool, don't worry about it. If you want to bring something, bring beer. But you don't have to." Natasha had a weird craving for sweets, and Bucky had figured that out quickly. When his ma would mail him goodies, he'd always share with her and no one else. The pie in question was an Arkansas Possum Pie. He'd gotten all his ma's old recipes. 

"I'll make sure he gets the right kind," Natasha said with a smirk. She sobered. "Harley seemed… upset, before I left him with Steve and Peggy."

Bucky sighed and tipped his head back. "Yeah, I know. He's beating himself up again. Kid's a fuckin' genius, but he feels like he can't read just because he's dyslexic. We're working on it. I got him the tablet, and it helps a lot, but I can't get all his textbooks on there. Some kid in his lit class was giving him shit for writing badly and reversing his letters." He scrubbed his hand over his face, frustrated. "It's just a roadblock. We'll get around it. We always have before." He had to believe that. He didn't have any other choice. 

"Wait, what's dyslexic mean?" Clint asked, clearly confused. Bucky dropped his hand from his face. How had Clint at least not heard of it? 

"He has trouble reading," Natasha said. "He said the words sort of… wiggle on the page. Jump around and don't sit still. He says it gives him a headache." Her sarcastic and biting tone was long gone. Bucky appreciated it. If she'd treated Harley's dyslexia with the same frank dispassion as she had Clint's feelings about her moving in with Bucky, he might have had to punch her. It wouldn't be the first time, sure, but he wouldn't feel the least bit sorry about it. 

"Wait, that's - not normal?" Clint asked, obviously confused. Was Clint dyslexic, too? How was this Bucky's life?

"No," Bucky said slowly. "It's not." He grabbed his phone from his pocket and tapped at it. When he was done, he passed it over the bar to Clint. "Is that easier?" He watched as Clint reluctantly took the phone, then his eyes widened. He blinked a few times. His suspicion was confirmed. 

"Uh, yeah. Holy shit. How?" Clint looked astounded. 

"It's a special app," Bucky said. "I got it for Harley. It helps him read, helps keep the letters in place a little better." He took his phone back when Clint offered it to him. "Doesn't help everything, and I can't do anything about the reading comprehension, but it helps a little." He gave Clint a considering look. "How do you manage in school? How did you not know?"

"No one ever told me," Clint said with a shrug. "A lot of people just chalked it up to me being deaf and having behavior problems back when I was in school. Never tried for college. Didn't seem like there was much point when I knew I'd fail." Bucky understood that last sentiment on a visceral level, and something painful and tight clenched in his chest.

Natasha squeezed his shoulder. "I did most of his homework for him when we lived in the group home." Bucky nodded to her. "The school can't do anything for Harley?"

"I haven't asked," Bucky said honestly. "I'm pretty sure his teachers know, or at least, they did last year, but Harley hates it. He thinks it's his fault, that he's just stupid. And he  _ isn't _ . You know that, Nat." He needed the world to believe that Harley wasn't supid. He really wasn't. He was smarter than Bucky in a lot of areas. 

"I do," she said quietly. She looked at Clint. "Harley is in the Xavier Gifted School. He got in on a scholarship. He's taking advanced level mathematics and sciences, but his other classes aren't as advanced or are a little behind." 

"He understands the stuff," Bucky said, sounding frustrated. "Like, I can sit him down and we can talk through geography or the events that led up to the Civil War and stuff like that, and he can recite it back and even make some pretty big leaps and bounds, but he hates reading it for himself. His comprehension isn't really the problem, either. He's had audiobooks since he was little and we knew there was something wrong. He can tell you exactly what happens in a story and even why it happened, but if you make him write it down? Put a test in front of him? It's like he freezes up." 

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense," Clint said with a slow nod. "I never had much of a problem when we read stuff in class, but I bombed all my tests and papers and stuff." He spun his glass between his hands. "I didn't even know there was anything wrong with me. Not like that." He shrugged and took a long drink of his beer. 

"I've always told you you weren't stupid," Natasha said with a fond smile on her face. 

Clint blew a raspberry at her. "I have zero time management skills, I basically live in a pigsty, and I'm an actual dumpster fire of a human being. Have you  _ met  _ me?" 

"Those are all symptoms of dyslexia," Bucky said quietly. "Harley's bad with time. Doesn't seem to understand that it means anything, most of the time. I got him a phone when he was seven just to make sure he had alarms set for everything so he could remember what he had to do. And I'm always picking up after him. Leaves his shit all over the damn apartment. Feel like I need a hazmat suit just to go into his room, most of the time. Doesn't mean he's stupid, though." Bucky held up his left hand. "I'm in a clinical trial for this thing. It's still experimental. Haven't even had it a whole year. One night, couple months after I got it attached, it started hurting. Crazy hurting. I was on the goddamn floor. Couldn't move. It was twitching and stuff. Harley came over, popped it open, fucked with some of the wiring, and fixed it." He snapped his flesh fingers. "Just like that. Kid had never seen the insides before, had no clue how it worked. I called Tony as soon as I could, and he came over to take a look at it. He was a freaked out as I was. He saw what Harley had done and told him he was brilliant, told him he could have an internship at SI as soon as he was sixteen. Just because Harley has some trouble reading doesn't mean he's stupid."

"Fuck," Clint said quietly. 

"You never told me about this," Natasha said with a low, dangerous threat in her voice. 

"What could you have done?" Bucky asked honestly. "Last I checked, you weren't an engineer. Harley probably will be." He said it with quiet pride. "And I want more for him than I had. Way more. I just - can't give it to him." He shook his head and left their end of the bar for a moment to fill a pitcher for a group that had just come in a set up a round of shots. The bar wasn't crowded, wasn't even full, but he already wanted to go home. He couldn't, though, and he knew it. He had Harley's archery lessons to pay for, and the bow he was saving for. 

He finally forced himself to go back over to Natasha and Clint. He refilled Clint's beer and Natasha's vodka, then said a mental fuck it and poured himself a shot of vodka, too. Luke wouldn't care, he never did. 

"I'll go with you to the school tomorrow," Natasha said, her serious face on. "We need to speak to someone about them making accommodations for Harley."

"They won't make accommodations for him when it comes to testing," Bucky said with a grimace. "And I don't want him to think any worse of himself than he does."

"Do you think less of yourself because you have a prosthetic?" Natasha demanded. It caught Bucky off guard. He didn't answer, which was telling enough, and Natasha cussed at him in various languages. "Idiots, all of you.  _ Men _ ," she spat, then stood and walked off toward the bathroom. 

"I deserved that," Bucky said to the open air. One of the other patrons gave him a sympathetic look, but Clint snickered. Bucky raised an eyebrow at him. 

"What?" Clint asked. "She's right. So you need a prosthetic, so what? You lost your real arm, and I have it on good authority that it's hard as fuck to live in the world we live in with just one arm. I have to rely on hearing aids, and that doesn't make me less of a person. Let me put it to you the way Nat put it to me when we were kids. The world sucks, and it's not going to change for us just because we're different. We have to make it work for us, anyway. We have to use whatever tools we have at our disposal. I've got my aids, you've got your prosthetic, and Harley can use whatever it is the school offers him. It doesn't make him less of a person, it makes him  _ more _ , because he knows the world is shitty and he's demanding that it work for him rather than against him. Why should he get shafted when everyone else has a better opportunity than him to get the same lessons?"

"He shouldn't," Bucky agreed quietly. He gave Clint a steady look. "But you know what? You get to explain that to Harley. It'd just wind up in a shame spiral between me and him." 

"Yeah, I can do that," Clint said with a grin. "I'll have a chat with him the next time he comes to the range." He took a quick sip of his beer. "Oh! Speaking of. There's a competition in a few weeks. It's a local one, just a small thing in the park. I figured it would be a good time to show Harley what he's up against for his age range, though."

"Oh," Bucky said. "Um, is he ready for that? It's only been, what, four weeks?" Clint nodded. "Sure, then. What day and time? I'll ask Luke for the night off so I can be there."

Clint positively beamed at him. He grabbed his phone from his pocket, a much older model with a cracked screen and a badly beaten case, and flicked through it rapidly. "Uh, April thirteenth. It's a Saturday. Competition starts at ten am. There's a ten dollar registration fee." 

Bucky grabbed the small wad of tips he'd stuffed into his pocket and counted out ten ones. "There." He put them on the bar in front of Clint. "I'll let Harley know tomorrow. He'll be nervous as fuck, though. He can be a bit of a perfectionist when he's trying hard at something."

"Like I told him, it's not about perfection," Clint said, stuffing the money into his pocket. "It's about instinct first, then the other stuff comes after that. And this competition is mostly just for Harley to see what it's like. Something small, no real pressure, that kind of thing. He'll probably get at least top five, though." 

"I'm just glad he finally asked for a hobby I can afford," Bucky said with a derisive snort. He turned around to fix a drink for one of his other regulars. "Broke single dad with a smart as fuck kid? He should be in robotics and shit, but who the fuck has the money for that kind of thing?"

Someone smacked him hard in the back of the head. He jerked around and found Natasha glaring at him. "I do," she said with ice in her voice. "You should have  _ asked _ . I would have paid for it."

"Four hundred bucks a term?" Bucky asked, sliding the cocktail over the bar. "Come on, Nat, it wasn't reasonable. Besides, with the way life was for us, it wasn't really fair to Harley. He'd need to pack all that shit up and carry it with him back and forth from school to my place to Steve's all the damn time."

Natasha looked at her perfectly manicured, blood-red fingernails. She was good at pretending to be bored. "As it is no longer a problem, I don't see why he can't join now." She was pissed, and Bucky knew it. 

"Because it's nearly the end of term and there's no point?" Bucky asked. "If he still wants to do it next term, and you're still around, then fine. Sure. But not now. He's got summer programs, too. You wanna fork out all the money for those? Be my guest." He knew he sounded too angry and harsh, but he didn't care. Natasha knew him too well to take offense to it. It just hit him a little too hard that he wasn't able to give his kid everything he deserved. It wasn't like Harley asked for much in the first place, and Bucky couldn't manage. He felt like a failure. His job covered rent and groceries and a few other basic necessities, like Harley's uniform. That was it. He didn't have a car, didn't even have his bike anymore. He had knock-off smartphones for himself and Harley. He bought his clothes at Goodwill. He made sure Harley's metro pass always had money on it, even if it meant he didn't get to eat sometimes. He bent over backward for Harley, and it still wasn't enough most nights. Not to mention he was up to working six nights a week now. 

"Aren't you supposed to get money for this clinical trial?" Natasha asked, her eyes narrowed. 

"I do," Bucky said. "It gets dumped straight into a savings account for Harley's college fund. I don't touch any of that. I'm not letting him throw away his entire fucking life on the goddamn military, not like I did."

"You aren't even thirty yet," Natasha snapped. "It wasn't your entire life. And if you'd use your damn G.I. Bill and go to college, you wouldn't have to be a bartender six nights a week and still struggle to make ends meet." Now Natasha was more than pissed - she was  _ angry _ . Bucky didn't blame her, not at all, but he didn't want to fight with her. All the anger rushed out of him and left only bitter resentment and despair and a little disappointment. His shoulders slumped, and he could see the moment Natasha noticed he was done for the night because her lips pressed together in a thin line. "If you'd just let me help you."

"No," Bucky said with a quick shake of his head. "You saved my goddamn life. You've done more than enough. And Harley ain't your kid." They were making Clint feel awkward, he could tell. "Look, Clint. I'm sorry." Bucky couldn't look at him. 

"Don't apologize to me, man," Clint said quickly. "I'd probably be dead like ten times over if it weren't for Nat. She's my platonic soulmate. I dunno how you're still alive after telling her no, but you don't have to apologize to me. I don't have any kids, so I don't know the struggle."

"He won't be alive for long," Natasha said with dark promise in her voice. Bucky didn't care about her threats. He'd learned to ignore them a long time ago. 

"Why'd you come here tonight anyway?" Bucky asked with a tired sigh. "You knew I was working and all fucked up over the shit with Harley."

"I thought getting you laid might help," Natasha said with a haughty sniff. "But you don't deserve my help." She tucked a fifty under her now empty glass of vodka. "We'll go to Sister Margaret's, instead."

"Wait -" Clint tried to protest as Natasha drug him from his stool. Bucky just stared at her, half in shock, as she relieved Clint of his glass. "Get Bucky laid by  _ who _ ?" Clint demanded. 

"You, of course," Natasha said with a negligent shrug. "But Bucky can't be bothered to get his head out of his ass." She shot him a dirty look, and yeah, Bucky figured he deserved that too. He just nodded and grabbed both glasses, dropped them in the sink, then took the fifty over to the till. When he looked up, Natasha and Clint were gone, so he stuffed Nat's change into a separate pocket from the rest of his tips and resolved to return it to her when he got home. 

Bucky ducked out into the alley behind the bar for a cigarette a few minutes later, leaving Luke to manage the bar himself. It wasn't like he couldn't, of course, but Luke tended to keep odd hours, and Bucky usually worked alone. The more Bucky worked, it seemed, the less Luke showed up and the more ragged he came into work the next night, sporting bruises and cuts. Bucky really didn't want to know what Luke was doing that involved getting the hell beaten out of him on a regular basis. 

Just as Bucky lit up, someone stepped into the alley. Bucky went tense. He hated it when the junkies tried to bum cigarettes off him or asked him for money. His time out there was for  _ him _ , dammit, and he didn't like to share it. 

"Hey, Bucky?" The figure at the end of the alley came a little closer, and Bucky realized it was Clint. He looked a little flushed. Was he drunk? He'd only had one beer and a part of a second. "Um. I'm sorry about Nat. She - she can move in with me if you're really that pissed with her."

"What?" Bucky asked, surprised. "What are you talking about?"

"You were fighting," Clint said, waving at the bar. "Earlier. Inside."

Bucky sighed. "I'm not mad at her. We disagree about money sometimes, but I'm not actually mad at her. She's one of my best friends. I love her to pieces."

"Oh," Clint said softly, rubbing the back of his head. "Sorry, uh. I'm not good with that kind of thing."

"Neither am I," Bucky said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "I have enough issues about not feeling like I'm good enough to take care of Harley, though, and Natasha knows that. She just doesn't see things the way I do."

"What?" Clint asked, clearly baffled. "Bucky, you  _ love  _ Harley. Trust me, that's enough."

"It's not gonna keep a roof over his head and food in his stomach or clothes on his back," Bucky disagreed, voice full of bitter resentment. 

"Okay, and?" Clint asked. "Nat and I lived in a group home for almost five years. We didn't have parents. No one gave a shit about us beyond making sure we weren't breaking the law. You love your kid, and that's enough. Fancy schools and clubs and college and shit? That's the extra. It doesn't mean anything when compared to not having someone who gives a damn about you. Look at Kate, for fucks sake! She has money, she can do whatever she wants, and she doesn't give a fuck about any of it because the only person she wants is her dad, and he doesn't give her the time of day." Clint stepped closer again. "Don't beat yourself up over not thinking you're good enough for your son, not because of money."

Bucky dropped his cigarette to the ground and crushed it out under his boot. "Sure, Clint. Okay." It wasn't that easy, though. He was pretty sure Clint knew that. "I gotta go back. Have fun with Nat." He pulled open the back door and vanished inside before Clint could argue. He didn't want to think about any of that right now. He just wanted to  _ not  _ think and focus on some mindless, boring work for the rest of his shift. Maybe Luke would let him get away with fucking around with the storage and organizing the crap after the last delivery. He didn't really want to be around people.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tony is too generous for his own good, and harley is a little shit

"So, you know. Now I've basically started a cold war with my best friend and she was trying to hook me up with my kid's archery teacher. No biggie." Bucky didn't mind bitching to Tony while he let the man fuck around with the prosthetic. Tony always had to kill the arm to do any maintenance on it, so it was basically a lump of dead weight resting on the table between them. It usually took a few hours. It had taken a while before Bucky felt comfortable enough to actually talk to Tony about anything, but Peter had come down to Tony's workshop once, and Bucky had entertained him for a while, and that had sort of opened up the door to a tentative friendship between them. Now, Bucky couldn't imagine  _ not  _ bitching to Tony about things. At least what he said to Tony wasn't written down anywhere and overanalyzed the way it was with his therapist or in group therapy. 

"I'd bone Clint," Tony said with an easy shrug, not bothering to look up from what he was doing. "Tall, biceps and abs for days, kinda hot. A literal dumpster fire, sure, but you're talking about a hookup, not marriage." He snorted, and Bucky could see the smirk curling up one side of his mouth even at the odd angle. 

Bucky kicked Tony's shin lightly. "I'm not much for hookups these days," he said. "Pretty sure this piece of really expensive scrap metal welded to my shoulder combined with my laundry list of triggers isn't much for anyone to want to play ball with."

"Pun tax," Tony declared. "You owe me coffee, you heathen." He lifted his head for a moment to offer Bucky the full force of his scowl. 

"Sure, if you give me your credit card and as soon as your turn on my arm," Bucky agreed readily. 

Tony didn't seem to be listening. "And scrap metal? What the fuck, Barnes! This is literally a top of the line prosthetic. You know I'm not technically supposed to talk about the other people in the trial, but like, most of them aren't hacking it. They won't keep up with the appointments or the weight training that goes along with having an extra thirty pounds grafted to their body. Not that I blame them, you know, but it's kind of disappointing."

"Hey, I'm in better shape now than I was in the damn military," Bucky said. "That's literally the least of my worries. Yeah, it's a bitch sometimes when my leg starts giving me hell, but it's worth it to be able to function like a fucking human being. And who needs sleep, anyway?" Tony looked up at him at that comment with a strange look on his face. "It's these weird shorts that knock me on my ass that I'm having issues with. Shit  _ hurts _ , Stark." 

"Yeah, I'm working on it," Tony said, scrubbing a hand through his hair and making it stick up in all directions. "It's still highly experimental, you know?" 

"No, I never could have guessed," Bucky said flatly. "And Harley… he doesn't need to see me like that. He's seen enough shit. Dealt with enough shit."

"Kid's resilient," Tony said quietly. "And fucking smart. I'm thinking of putting together a summer program for kids like him. Let them come bum around in R&D for a few hours every day and tinker with shit, learn how to code better, invent something all on their own by the end of it. Think he'd be interested?"

"Yeah," Bucky said honestly. "That's not the problem."

"Then what is?" Tony asked, bewildered. 

"Money," Bucky said flatly. "It's always money."

"Buck, Buckster, Bucko. You  _ have  _ to stop worrying about that so much. The clinical trial was designed to help offset the costs of lost wages due to the experimental nature of the prosthetic. It's a sliding scale, too. You get as much as you need. You know this. Pepper made you talk to legal about it."

"Yeah, and it's going to Harley," Bucky snapped. "He ain't payin' for college." 

"Oh jesus christ," Tony muttered. "I already offered the kid an internship. You know that comes with a full-ride scholarship to his college of choice, right? I can't exactly pay kids wages or it's violating child labor laws. But I get the labor, they get the knowledge and know-how, and they get money for college.  _ Use the fucking money, Barnes _ ." 

Bucky looked away from Tony. "I'm not sure he'll want to do that in six years." 

"Then he'll have winnings from his archery competitions!" Tony insisted. "And if you really, truly think that Harley won't want to come do an internship with me after all the questions he's asked, after all the timed he's fucked around in your arm, you're a bigger idiot than I thought you were." Tony pointed one of the weird tools at him. "And you aren't a dumbass, Bucky. You can understand my ramblings. Half my R&D guys can't understand my ramblings."

"What, like it's hard?" Bucky mocked. Tony cracked a smirk. Bucky just rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Why does everyone fucking care what I do with my money?"

"Uh, because you've already almost died a couple times over and because you never know what could happen every day and because you deserve to actually live your life rather than working your ass off? Not to mention  _ going to college _ ? You want a scholarship, too, Bucky? I can do that. JARVIS? Do that."

"No, JARVIS, don't -" Bucky tried to argue. 

"It's done, sir," JARVIS said smugly. "The paperwork will be waiting for Sergeant Barnes when he checks out downstairs." Bucky groaned and facepalmed with his flesh hand. He'd fucked up and done that a couple times with the metal hand. Gave himself a black eye once for his trouble, too. That had been fun. It sucked being left-handed. He still couldn't write for shit.

"Awesome," Tony said. He turned his attention back to Bucky's arm, but that didn't mean he was finished speaking. "You're the best, J. Now, Bucky. Please. Stop wasting your damn life. Spend time with your kid. Go get fucking laid. Clint's a good choice. I've known the guy for years. Tell him what your triggers are and he'll respect your boundaries, no questions asked." 

"How do you know that?" Bucky grumbled. 

"Because he respects mine," Tony said simply. "Doesn't touch my chest, doesn't try to ask me about me and Pepper, doesn't try to hand me things. It's great. And he doesn't argue with me when I give him new toys." Tony looked up. "Okay, turning it back on. Should be good to go." Bucky braced himself for the pins-and-needles feeling and grimaced at it while Tony slid the plates back into place. "Speaking of." Tony rolled away and then rolled back with three slim boxes in one hand. "For you, Harley, and Natasha. Beta test them for me. All you have to do is let me know if they do anything funky. They shouldn't, but you never know. I'll drop Clint's by for him later." 

Bucky watched as Tony put them on the table. "Are those…"

"Phones," Tony finished for him. "The new StarkPhone. It's still a prototype, technically, and it's not on the market, hence the beta testing. It should also work with the prosthetic. Tell me how that goes. It's for science." He rolled away again before Bucky could protest, so Bucky picked up his shirt and tugged it over his head. He'd never been the self-conscious type until after he'd gotten the scars. He was pretty sure Tony and Harley were the only people he'd willingly shown them to. He'd worn a tank top, instead, the first few times, but that meant layers, and it was too damn hot for that, now. 

"Why the fuck do you give me stuff?" Bucky shouted at Tony where he was now standing at some kind of machine across the lab space. 

"Because I'm a billionaire and I can do what I want," Tony shouted back. He held up one finger and Bucky waited, a tad impatient. It was almost four. He needed to leave so he could get to the archery range to pick up Harley. Tony finally came over to him with an oddly-shaped case in his hand. He set it on the table and unzipped it. Inside was a solid black compound bow. Ten-year-old sized.

"Peter has decided that, if Harley can be an archer, so can he. So this is my thanks to Harley for inspiring my kid. I made one for Peter and Kate, too. And Clint, but he's not special. I make all his bows. Anyway. Everything's in the case. So, congrats. All your problems solved. I'm a genius, you're welcome, text me and tell me how your date with Clint goes, and I'll see you next week. Bye!" Tony jogged away while Bucky was still in shock and before he could process, let alone respond to, anything he'd just said. 

Bucky put the phones in the case, zipped it shut, slid the longer strap over his shoulder, and walked to the door. In the elevator, he leaned against the wall. "JARVIS?"

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes?"

"Please tell Tony I said thanks," Bucky said quietly. "And - what can I do for him in return?"

"Mr. Stark has shown an appreciation for handcrafted gifts, usually those of which he can eat, and invitations to events where he isn't expected to show off for the press or donate a significant sum of money." 

"Thanks, JARVIS," Bucky said with a small smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You're quite welcome," JARVIS said, just as the elevator doors opened. It hadn't taken much for him to get used to interacting with JARVIS. When Bucky had been moved back to the US, he'd still been stuck in the hospital. Tony had given him a tablet with access to JARVIS the second time they met. JARVIS had been a lifes aver. Bucky had been so damn weak, at first, that he hadn't been able to do much more than just lie there. JARVIS was almost a person, he wasn't just an AI, and Bucky honestly thought of him as a friend. He was pretty sure Tony was secretly pleased as punch about that. He hadn't been able to take JARVIS home with him, but by that point, he'd been a lot better off anyway. He still wished he had JARVIS, of course, but it was okay. He still got to talk to the AI in the elevator or in Tony's workshop when Tony was too distracted for conversation.

Bucky had to stop by the front desk to check out, like always, and as promised, there was a packet of scholarship paperwork waiting for him. There was also a reservation for a restaurant for himself and Clint, a confirmation message from Natasha that she would watch Harley for the night, and another note that mentioned Bucky wouldn't need to worry about the bill or a tip - it would be taken care of. Bucky rolled his eyes at Tony's extravagance but gathered the papers anyway and headed out to the busy sidewalk. 

It took nearly an hour and a half to get to the archery range, but that was fine. Bucky set up his and Harley's new phones and was pleasantly surprised when Harley's phone came pre-set with the dyslexia function added in. He moved a significant chunk of the money from the clinical trial from his savings account to his checking account, paid the rent and a few other bills, stopped to grab coffees for himself and Clint and a giant brownie for Harley, and then walked into the archery range. 

Kate was standing with Harley off to one side. Clint was the one shooting today. It took Bucky a moment to realize what he was doing. He was spelling Kate's name with fucking  _ arrows _ . He'd already spelled Harley's. It was damned impressive. Bucky had amused himself by shooting smiley faces into targets plenty of times, but never his own name. He'd gotten so far as a lopsided B once but quickly gave up on the attempt. It was too much work.

"I can shoot with my feet, too," Clint said with a grin toward Harley and Kate. 

"Maybe next time," Kate said with a laugh. "I gotta head home. Family dinner." Bucky could hear the sarcasm in her tone. 

"That's rough, buddy," Harley said, and Bucky snorted, which got all three of their attention. He waved a little. "Oh, hey Dad. What time is it?"

"Late," Bucky admitted. "It's fine. I got the night off." He'd called Luke already, and Luke didn't much care. "C'mere. Tony loaded me down with shit." 

"Is that…?" Clint trailed off uncertainly. 

Bucky led Harley over to a plastic table on the side that held flyers for events at the archery range and other events around the city. He put the bag on the table and held the papers out of the way. He waved at Harley to open it. Clint and Kate gathered nearby to watch. Harley unzipped the bag slowly as if it might bite him. His little exhale of surprise at the sight sounded like he'd been punched in the gut. 

"Well hot damn," Clint said. "I dunno if you'll be able to use it by the competition, but we can damn sure try."

"You can take lessons every fucking day if you want," Bucky said. Harley looked at him with wide eyes. "It's cool. I promise."

"Yes." Harley turned to look at Clint. "Can I?"

"Sure thing, little dude," Clint said with a wide grin. 

"Go ahead and try it out," Bucky said. "I gotta talk to Clint for a minute. Kate, you don't mind helping him, do you?"

"Hell no," Kate said with a grin of her own. "I wanna try it myself!" Harley and Kate immediately began inspecting the rest of the case, and Bucky led Clint far enough to the side that they wouldn't be overheard. 

"What's up?" Clint asked, a little nervous. 

"I was an ass the other night," Bucky said. "And I wanted to apologize. Tony apparently agreed. And he set up this." Bucky showed him the papers for the reservation. "Wanna go with me?" He'd taken the time to Google the restaurant, too, and while it was really nice and way more expensive than anything he would have considered on his own, it was still simple enough that he wasn't too terrified of it. 

"Fuck," Clint breathed. He looked at Bucky with wide eyes. "Uh, yeah?" He handed the papers back. "You - you aren't just doing this because of what Nat said, are you?"

"What about me needing to get laid?" Bucky asked with a snort. Clint shrugged. He looked oddly self-conscious, a look Bucky hadn't seen before. "No," he said softly. "I'm not just doing this because of that. Or because I was an ass, or because Tony gave me all this shit. I really do feel bad. It was a shitty day, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you. But…" He rubbed at the back of his neck. "I dunno, Clint. You seem pretty cool."

Clint laughed. "You gotta be high or something. I'm an actual facts disaster. But sure." He smiled. "If you wanna go with the resident garbage fire, yeah, I'd like that." 

"Good," Bucky said with a small smile. "Where's your place? I'll stop by at seven-thirty and we can go together."

"It's like, four blocks from here," Clint said. "I can text you the address."

"Great," Bucky said. "Tony's giving us all new phones, too. Said it should work with the prosthetic." 

"Sweet," Clint said. "You'll have to tell me how it works." He looked around and frowned. "I - have a mess to clean up."

"Yeah, you do," Bucky said with a laugh. "I'll get Harley out of your hair. Want me to walk with Kate to the subway station?" 

"If you don't mind, that'd be great, yeah," Clint said with a nod. "I hate letting her go alone."

"I'll tell her to call you when she gets home," Bucky said with a nod. Clint gave him a grateful smile. He walked over to the lane where Harley was working with his new bow and made him gather up his things. He had Kate get her stuff, too, and told her he was walking her to the station. She agreed readily enough, and before too long, they were off. 

Natasha was waiting in the kitchen when Bucky and Harley got home. He tossed the phone box at her, which she caught easily. "That's from Tony. He said to let him know if anything fucks up on it."

"Nice," she said, inspecting the phone after sliding it out of the box. "Now you." She narrowed her eyes. "What's going on tonight? I thought you had work."

"I did," Bucky agreed. He waited until he heard Harley's bedroom door shut. "Tony decided that was stupid. I'm - I'm using the damn money from the clinical trial. He gave me a fucking scholarship for college, Nat. So I'm going to work a couple nights at Luke's and work on a degree. He promised a scholarship for Harley, too, if he does the internship at SI when he's older. And -" Bucky sighed. "He pretty much set up me and Clint on a really damn nice date. I doubt I'll ever be able to do anything this nice again, so I figured, why not?" 

"Good," Natasha said with a small smile. She walked closer and clearly showed that she was going to touch him. She pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, then backed away from his personal space. "You'll let me help with Harley, too?"

"Yeah," Bucky said with a nod. "Yeah, whatever you wanna do. Sure." He didn't have enough pride to say no, not anymore. And Harley fucking deserved it. 

"Then we'll go talk to the school on Monday," she said. There was no room in her tone for argument.

"I'm gonna invite Tony and Peter to dinner on Thursday, too," Bucky said. "To say thanks for all this. It's not enough, not really, but I figure it can't hurt."

"It really can't," Natasha agreed. "Now, go shower and get ready. I'll need to go see Clint and make sure he's presentable for public consumption." She squeezed Bucky's fingers and slipped by him, and Bucky watched her go with a fond smile. 

He went to Harley's room first. He knocked twice. "Hey, kid, can I come in?" 

"Yeah."

He pushed open the door and propped himself in the door frame. "So. Couple things. I've got an actual date tonight."

Harley snorted. "You? No way." 

"Why does this surprise you?" Bucky asked. "It's not like you came from thin air or anything. And I used to have game before all this shit." He gestured vaguely at his left side. Harley just rolled his eyes. "Anyway. Be good for Nat, yeah? Get your homework done. Ask her for help if you need anything. She's fucking smart, and she won't mind. She about beat me over the head for not accepting her help, so don't make her do it to you, got it?"

"Yeah, Dad, I got it," Harley sighed with an eye roll. Bucky repressed a smirk. God, his kid was too much like him. He blamed Becca. 

"Next point," Bucky continued. "Guests tomorrow night, which means this shit? It's gotta be picked up. Peter and Tony and Clint are probably all coming. Maybe Kate, too. I'll have to ask. See if Miles wants to come by, if you want." Harley seemed interested. "I'll make Nat come and inspect it tonight before you go to bed. And she's way tougher than I am."

"How many friends can I invite?" Harley asked slowly. 

"As long as it's people who've been here before, I don't mind." Bucky said. He didn't really think Harley had many friends that hadn't already come to the apartment, which was kind of sad, but he kept it to himself. "Please make sure they ask their parents  _ first _ . It'll be dinner, dessert, probably games after. Or a movie. We'll see. And then I'll make sure everyone gets home." 

"Sweet," Harley said with a smile. He had to have picked that up from Clint. Bucky smiled back. "Who's your date with, anyway? You haven't dated anyone since you've been back."

"I have so," Bucky said with an affronted sniff. "You just didn't know about it." Harley rolled his eyes at the lie. "It's Clint. I was a dick to him the other night."

"Oh," Harley said, deflating. "It's not a  _ real  _ date, then. Just the apology kind."

"When did you learn so much about dating?" Bucky grumbled. "You're  _ ten _ , kid. You haven't even hit puberty yet."

Harley made a face at him, which was normal for anything that involved puberty, sex, girls in anything beyond a friend's capacity, boys in anything beyond a friend's capacity, or growing up in general. Bucky was glad for it. He wasn't quite ready for Harley to grow up yet, for all that he was slowly preparing him for it. They'd had every kind of talk there was to have, and while it was awkward as hell, Bucky didn't want to be a grandpa when Harley was eighteen, not the way he'd done that to his parents. Besides, Harley had seen Bucky go through something terrible, had lost his grandmother - Bucky's mother - and had generally experienced more of  _ life  _ than Bucky ever had at his age. 

"I hear the older kids talking about it, okay?" Harley said in a huff. 

"Uh huh," Bucky said. "Sure, okay. Well, if you wanna take someone out on a date, you get a chaperone until you're sixteen. Got it?" Harley made another face, and Bucky stuck his tongue out at him. 

"Don't you have to get ready for your apology date?" Harley asked. 

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. He walked further into the disaster that was Harley's room, littered with clothes and books and papers and toys and robot parts, and knelt to hug him. "Love you, kiddo."

"Love you, too, Dad," Harley mumbled against his shoulder. Bucky stood and mussed Harley's hair, then walked out of the room. 

He showered and dressed in nice jeans - he didn't own any slacks that fit anymore - and a black button-down shirt that was a bit tight. He even added the nice cologne Becca had got for him for his birthday. He stomped into his boots and took a long moment to painstakingly brush his hair into something that looked semi-respectable. He didn't want to tie it up, not tonight. He deemed himself presentable, figured Nat would be back to fuss soon, and left his room. 

"Remember to practice safe sex!" Harley shouted from his bedroom as Bucky passed the open door. 

Bucky rolled his eyes and ignored the comment. Natasha was smirking at him from in the kitchen, a glass of wine in her hand. She set it to the side and messed with his hair for a moment, tugged at his shirt, then nodded once. 

"Make sure his room is clean before he goes to bed," Bucky said. "Bedtime is ten."

"Will do," Natasha said. "Now go. You'll be late."

Bucky headed out the door and looked at Clint's address on his phone. It really wasn't far. He made it to the front of the five-story, squat building with a couple minutes to spare. He found Clint's last name on the buzzer and hit it a few times. The door finally clicked, and he went inside. He headed up for the third floor and found the right door at the end of the hall. He knocked. 

There was an excited yip on the other side of the door. Bucky remembered Clint had a dog named Lucky. He wondered what kind of dog it was. There was a loud clatter and a yelp, then a bang right against the door, then it opened, and Clint was grinning at him widely. He was in jeans, also, and a plum-colored button-down that hadn't been tucked in. The sleeves were neatly rolled to his elbows. His hair was less of a haystack than usual, too. 

"Hey," Bucky said. A golden retriever mutt nosed his way by Clint's leg and shoved his nose to Bucky's thigh, sniffing curiously. Bucky held his hand out and grinned down at the dog. He was missing an eye. "You gotta be Lucky, huh?"

"Oh, yeah, that's Pizza Dog," Clint said. He rubbed Lucky's head. "Go lie down," Clint said. He gave the dog a hand signal, and Lucky's ears drooped a little before he turned and headed back inside the apartment. Clint stepped outside and shut the door behind himself, then locked it. "Ready?"

"Yeah," Bucky said easily. He turned and walked beside Clint as they headed for the stairs. "So. Are you sure you don't mind teaching Harley more often?"

"Of course I don't mind," Clint said, surprised by the question. "Dude, seriously. Archery is my  _ thing _ . Getting to teach other people to love it? That's the best." He smiled brightly. "With the extra lessons, he might be able to use the new bow at the competition. We'll have to see how he does."

"I'm honestly excited to see how he does," Bucky said with his own smile. "You think he has a chance to place?"

"Yeah," Clint said with a nod. "If we hold off on the new bow until after the competition? Absolutely." 

"At least it's not a gun," Bucky said with a snort and a slight shake of his head. They pushed their way out of the building and onto the sidewalk, and they headed for the restaurant. Tony had done his homework well. It wasn't terribly far for them to walk, and it was nice night for it, too. Not cold at all. 

"Are you against guns because you were in the military, or is there some other reason?" Clint asked.

Bucky shrugged. "I guess I just worry that he'll like shooting so much he'll decide he wants to go into the military, and I don't want that for him. I joined up pretty much straight out of high school. I was there when Harley was born, thankfully, but I didn't get to spend much time with him when he was little. I made sure I got sole custody, but my ma and sister pretty much raised him. And then he had to see this." Bucky waved at his left side and grimaced. "It wasn't pretty. My sister brought him to see me in Germany. He was afraid to touch me. And, honestly, I was afraid to let him. I couldn't hear jack shit for the better part of a year, you know? Harley was almost seven, but he and Becca learned sign, and so did I, and that's how we communicated."

"And the Russian," Clint said. Bucky gave him a sharp look. "Nat's Russian. Her mom was a Russian bride, but the marriage didn't work out, and she was supposed to go back, but she stayed. Nat was born here, so she didn't have to worry, but her mom did. She taught Nat Russian. It was the only language she knew for years. She taught me, at the group home. I taught her sign in exchange. I'm a little rusty, sure, but I can still understand it."

"Nat taught me, too," Bucky admitted. "And I taught Harley with Natasha's help. He knows Spanish, too. Becca and I took it in high school, but we took it seriously. Harley absorbs shit like a sponge. He learns so damn fast." 

Clint smiled a little. "Yeah, he does. And you know, I don't think he'd go the military route? He's seen what it did to you, he knows how it felt to be on the family side of it, too." Bucky sighed, but he didn't have an argument for that. Harley  _ had  _ experienced all of that, which was precisely why he didn't want Harley going anywhere near the military. "Anyway, I don't teach kids how to shoot anything other than bows. Okay, and maybe slingshots, but those hardly count." Clint grinned, and Bucky snorted. 

"You were a sniper," Bucky said, giving Clint a curious look. "What unit were you with?"

Clint rubbed the back of his head, mussing the careful styling Natasha had done for him. "Uh, I wasn't ever technically in the military." He gave Bucky a sheepish look. "It's, uh, not exactly first date conversation."

Bucky stopped Clint with a hand on his arm. Cling glanced at him, then away. Bucky took a step closer, even though he hadn't really had anyone other than Harley or Natasha - and occasionally Tony - inside his personal space for about three years now. He rested his hand on Clint's bicep. An errant thought, from when he was with Tony earlier in the day, almost made him laugh. Clint really did have biceps for days. 

"Clint, you don't have to tell me. I was just curious." He squeezed Clint's arm, then dropped his hand and moved back. "C'mon, we need to get moving if we're going to make it in time." 

"Just like that?" Clint asked, barely audible, as he followed a step or two after Bucky. Bucky flashed a smile over his shoulder at Clint, and Clint picked up his pace.

Just a moment later, Bucky was holding open the door to the restaurant for Clint. Clint flushed pink and ducked his head as he slid inside past Bucky. Bucky gave the name 'Jarvis' to the host guy, and they were seated immediately. They both ordered beer, and Bucky began to feel a flutter of anxiety. 

"How'd you learn to shoot a bow with your feet?" Bucky blurted after a long, awkward pause.

Clint flushed again, clearly embarrassed. "Uh, so. Nat and I met when I was eight and she was seven in a group home. We lived together for almost five years, there. And then the group home shut down, and we were sent to different foster homes. I bounced around for the next two years, and then I landed in a really shitty home. So I just. Left. Ran away. Joined an actual circus." He rubbed the back of his head. "It was a front for a criminal organization, I won't lie about that. I learned how to pick pockets and shit. The archer there, Trickshot, he taught me to shoot. And I got my own act when I was seventeen. The Amazing Hawkeye." He was staring at the table, refusing to look at Bucky. "Then they made me go with them to do… something. I refused. And Trickshot shot me in the gut and the shoulder and the thigh. They left me for dead in a ditch. The cops picked me up and tried to pin their crime on me. And, like. I was a seventeen-year-old runaway. I couldn't prove I didn't do it. But - I got a deal. Got out of it. Joined a different group. It wasn't like the army, not really. Covert ops and stuff. Only instead of shooting targets, I was shooting people. Bad people, sure, but people. I got out of all of it a few years back."

Bucky absorbed that in silence for a moment. "I was Ghost Recon," Bucky said quietly. "So I get sort of what you mean."

Clint looked up at him and gave him a sheepish smile. "You might think so," he said, "but you don't, not really. Not - not the shit we were doing." He shook his head. "I couldn't have any sort of life. Couldn't trust anyone not to stab me in the back, not even my own teammates, not really. Rumlow was a goddamn psychopath, I swear, and I hated the guy."

Bucky went very still. "Brock Rumlow?" he asked in a low, quiet voice. Clint nodded slowly. "You know he got a dishonorable discharge?"

Clint shrugged. "Doesn't surprise me. A lot of those guys did." 

"I'm the reason," Bucky said, his metal fist clenching and unclenching repeatedly under the table, making a soft grinding sound. The plates in his arm recalibrated over and over to compensate for the stress. "I can't - I can't say why. But I'm the one who reported him."

"Can't say I blame you," Clint said. "The guy is bad news. He's a jackass of epic proportions. I won't lie and say he wasn't good at his job, because he was, but I didn't like him. I couldn't sleep in the same room with him. He creeped me out."

"Yeah," Bucky muttered. 

"Talk about something else," Clint said, a hint of desperation in his voice. "Um. How's Harley doing? With the reading stuff? I got that app you mentioned. I've never been able to like, really read books or anything before. It's cool that it doesn't make me fucking nauseous anymore when I try." He offered Bucky a wan smile. 

"He's still struggling," Bucky said slowly. "Nat and I are going to the school on Monday to talk to someone about some accommodations for him. Friday's some kind of holiday for the kids." Bucky took a long drink of his beer and a deep breath, trying to push down the anxiety. "Speaking of. Thursday night. You're still invited, by the way. I'm going to ask Tony and Peter, too, and Harley is going to ask some of his friends. I thought I'd ask if Kate might want to come, too. We can do dinner and games or something for the kids, after. Nat didn't say anything, but I think she has something planned." 

Clint forced a smile. "Yeah, that sounds great, actually. I'll send her a text. She can crash at my apartment tomorrow night. She does that, sometimes. I got myself a really comfy pullout couch, so she can have my bed." 

"If Nat hadn't taken over my guest room, I'd say she could stay at mine," Bucky said with a shrug. 

"I'd give up anything for Kate," Clint said with a dopey smile. "She's a great kid, and she deserves way more than the way her dad treats her. We manage, I think. I've already promised she could have an apartment in my building when she turns eighteen. I have a few that are empty." He shrugged. 

"Wait," Bucky said. "You can do that?" 

"Yeah?" Clint asked, confused. "Nat didn't tell you? I own the building. I won it in a totally illegal game of poker against the local bratva wannabes." 

Bucky stared at him, stunned. "You what?" 

"Well, I mean, I was already living there, and these guys were shaking down the tenants and raising the rent and stuff. So I crashed their poker game and raised the stakes. Won the building and stole their dog. That's how I got Lucky. And like, I'm pretty sure they'd stolen Lucky from someone else because that dog is way too sweet to have belonged to anyone else, and they were beating the crap out of him. So I won the building and stole the dog. They come around every now and again trying to take it back, but my name is on the deed, and I'm not giving it up." Clint shrugged. "So, you know. That's why I look like shit a lot of the time. Baseball bats hurt."

"Fucking hell," Bucky said, shaking his head. "You are the strangest person I've ever met." He smiled. Their conversation stalled for a moment as they ordered their food. When the waiter left, Bucky ran his hand through his hair. "I uh, I'm gonna figure out which college I want to go to. Tony sort of crawled down my throat about it today while he was fucking with the arm." He flicked the fingers on his left hand for emphasis. "He threw a scholarship at me, promised one for Harley, and gave me this, for me and you."

Clint laughed, bright and cheerful. "Tony's great like that. More money than sense, but he's got a good heart." 

"I got damn lucky when he came to me about the arm," Bucky said with a nod and a small smile of his own. "The docs before told me a prosthetic wasn't going to be an option. Kind of have to have a place to put one, you know?"

"Do you mind if I ask how much of your arm is all Terminator?" Clint asked curiously.

Bucky put the fingers of his right hand high on the top of his left shoulder. "Up to here," he said. "Tony calls it an anchor point. It's pretty much welded to my skin. I don't remember how long the surgery took to get it on, but it's screwed into the bones, too. Shoulder blade, ribs, even my spine. Took a few months to heal from that, and then they gave me the arm itself." He slid his hand down to where the arm connected to the shoulder. "It will come off right here, if it ever has to, but we haven't needed to do that yet. It fucks up sometimes, though. Still a work in progress and all that. Hurts like a bitch. Harley is usually there to fix it, at least temporarily, and then we call Tony and get him over to fuck with it. So, you know. If I ever drop to the floor and the arm looks like it's twitching on its own and Harley isn't around, call Tony."

Clint swallowed hard. "Yeah, okay. Thanks for the warning. That sounds scary as fuck."

"It was the first time," Bucky agreed. "It happens about once a month, it seems. Every time Tony tries to update it, it wants to go haywire again. Something with the electrical pulses not firing correctly. It's not a short, not like in a tv or a toaster. It's - hard to explain." He shrugged. He could  _ show  _ Clint what he meant, sure, but he didn't want to do that while they were eating dinner in a nice restaurant. 

"I can fix leaky pipes and clogged toilets," Clint said, "but that? No thanks." He gave a small, self-deprecating smile. "I wouldn't even know what I was looking at."

"I didn't, not at first," Bucky said. "I had to watch Tony work on it a few times before I picked it up."

"How often do you have to go see him?" Clint asked. 

"Once a week," Bucky said. "He mentioned today that pretty much everyone else in the trial couldn't hack it. Lugging around thirty extra pounds of prosthetic isn't easy. Not to mention it still being in the testing phases. Then there's, you know, different therapy shit twice a week. And the gym every other day to keep up the strength training necessary for just carrying the arm. I was lopsided as hell for a while. It's gotten a lot easier."

"Well you are built like a brick shit house," Clint said with a wide grin. 

Bucky laughed. "I'm in better shape now than I was in the military, all because of the arm." 

"Sometimes good can come from bad, right?" Clint said softly, a small smile on his face. 

"Yeah," Bucky agreed. "You're right." He finished off his beer. "You know, Harley is such a shit. He didn't believe I had a date." 

Clint laughed. "I texted Kate the same, and she didn't believe me, either. Kids, man. They're such jerks."

"Harley said it wasn't a real date, that it was just an apology date," Bucky said, giving Clint a considering look. "And yeah, I was a dick to you the other day. I'm also sorry about that. But…" He hesitated and ducked his head. "I don't want Harley to be right, you know. Apology dates are just as shitty as pity dates."

"So, a real date then," Clint said. Something in his tone made Bucky look up. Clint was red-faced again. It was endearing. "I mean. Hookups I get, right? Like, I was in the circus at fifteen. There wasn't really anything defining sexuality or gender for most of us. You see someone you like, you have sex, and you move on. I've never really done… dates."

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, relaxing a little and his smile turning amused. "Well, it's been a while for me. Haven't tried since the arm, and that was three years ago." He went quiet as the waiter brought their food and more beer for himself and Clint. "Before that, I did the hookup thing between tours."

"And you joined up right out of high school?" Clint asked. He picked up his fork and stabbed at his baked potato to mix up the toppings. "Doesn't sound like you had much dating experience, either, honestly. " He chuckled a little. 

"Okay, fair," Bucky said with a shrug. "Most I ever did was take my prom date to dinner and knock her up. I got Harley out of the deal, but I haven't seen the girl since our last court date when I got full custody. The abortion thing didn't really fly with her family, and they wanted her to give it up for adoption. So I took him." 

Their conversation seemed to drift after that point, taking them through a broad range of topics. They had a similar taste in music and movies, seemed to genuinely find the other's sense of humor funny, and they both picked up on which topics should be avoided quickly. It was easy. Almost familiar, in a strange way. Bucky wasn't tense or overly anxious by the time dinner came to an end at all. The waiter brought the check to have Bucky sign it, and he saw a thirty-five percent tip had already been included. He scribbled his messy signature across the bottom of the receipt, though it was hardly legible, and he and Clint headed out of the restaurant and back towards Clint's apartment. 

"Nat mentioned you get nervous about new people in your space," Clint said as they turned down his street. "So, you know, Kate and I don't have to come if it'll make you uncomfortable."

Bucky reached out slowly and squeezed Clint's wrist. "I want you to come. Both of you. I might be a little keyed up at first, but I'll be okay. It helps that Nat trusts you. Helps a lot." He gave Clint a small, self-deprecating smile. "It's been almost two years since Harley and I have been on our own. Pretty sure it's time for me to start trying to work on that boundary a little."

"Only if you're sure," Clint said with a nod. He wasn't pressing the issue, the way Steve sometimes did, and he wasn't treating Bucky with pity or anything the way some of the people in his group therapy sessions sometimes did. He just accepted it. That was really nice. 

They came to a stop at the door to Clint's building. "So, uh," Clint said, scratching the back of his neck. His cheeks were tinted pink, and he looked nervous. "I had a really great time."

"So did I," Bucky said, his smile small but genuine. "I'd -" He paused and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, which seemed to distract Clint. It only firmed Bucky's resolve. He knew he was pushing his personal space boundary, too, so he took a deeper breath, took stock of himself. He felt fine. Good, actually. He was a little nervous, but not anxious. No rapid heartbeat or trembling fingers, no racing breathing, no sense of impending doom for literally no goddamn reason at all. "I'd like to kiss you, if that's all right?" 

Clint blinked down at him with wide, almost disbelieving eyes. The disbelief stung, a little. Bucky was about to take it back, but Clint was already nodding. "Yeah, yes. Please." 

"Just, um, don't touch my arm?" Bucky asked hesitantly. Clint just nodded, and Bucky was relieved he didn't ask why. 

Bucky smiled again, still feeling awkward. He stepped closer, right into Clint's space, and maybe it was better that way. He felt like he had more control over the situation. He reached up slowly and cupped the side of Clint's neck with one hand and tugged him down so Bucky didn't have to do something ridiculous like stand on his tiptoes. Clint went willingly, one of his hands tugging at Bucky's shirt for a moment before he settled his hand on Bucky's hip, just above his jeans. 

It was awkward and stilted. It was, honestly, sort of terrible. It was short, too. They broke apart quickly, and it felt more like a quick peck Bucky might have gotten from a relative rather than something he got after a really nice date. He and Clint seemed to come to the same conclusion simultaneously because they both broke out into soft, quiet laugher. 

"Wanna try that again?" Bucky asked, their foreheads almost pressed together. He was smiling up at Clint, a featherlight, almost fluttering feeling in his chest. Clint had his hands resting solidly on Bucky's waist, and Bucky's hands were on Clint's shoulders. 

"I dunno, that was a pretty epic fail, I feel like we should savor the moment or something," Clint said, still quietly snickering. His grin softened into something soft and dopey. "You really think we can do better? Or should we quit while we're already behind?"

"I think we should definitely try for something on the higher side of a ten-point scale," Bucky said, amused. "Because that? That had to be like, a two. I've had worse, but not much."

"It was totally a solid three and a half for me," Clint said, squinting a little. "Gotta add the half point for effort, right?"

"And the other three points?" Bucky asked with a laugh. "I was giving us one out of those two points for that effort."

"So there was a guy who could swallow swords, right?" Clint said, leaning back a little. "He also blew fire. And let me tell you, the paraffin tastes  _ awful _ ." Bucky nearly fell against Clint from laughing so hard. "So, the kiss was better than ours? But I had to dock points for the taste." 

"Okay, okay," Bucky said, trying to get his giggles under control. "Try again?" 

"Yeah," Clint said, still smiling.

Bucky gripped the back of Clint's head this time, making sure to angle them both the right way. He leaned up a little more, rocking up on his toes just a hair. It was a little odd, kissing someone so much taller than he was, but that fell away when they kissed for the second time. There weren't fireworks or lightning or any of the cheesy romance novel crap from the books Becca liked to read (and which Bucky had occasionally stolen) but it was warm. His fingers tightened in Clint's hair a fraction, and Clint's hand slid up Bucky's back, comforting rather than controlling or overbearing. He didn't feel pinned, only held. Their lips moved together, again and again, drawing it out for a long, endless moment. 

And then they broke apart, and Bucky was a little embarrassed that he was breathing hard. Clint was too, though, and that helped. He smiled up at Clint again and reached up to press a quick peck to the corner of his mouth before sliding away. Clint let him go. 

"G'night, Bucky," Clint said, still half breathless. 

"'Night, Clint." Bucky waved his metal hand a little, then turned and headed for home. 

Natasha took one look at him when he came through the door and rolled her eyes, but she was gracious enough not to say anything. She poured him a beer, instead, and they settled on the couch to watch  _ Brooklyn 99 _ together.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harley's archery competition

It was warm out. Unseasonably so. It was already seventy-five, and it wasn't quite eleven in the morning. Bucky was wearing a short-sleeved shirt, something he wouldn't have dreamed of last year. He ignored the curious stares and focused his attention on Clint, Harley, Kate, and Natasha. Steve was around somewhere, too, with Peggy and their baby girl, Frankie, getting some cold drinks and a few snacks for everyone. Harley's turn to shoot wouldn't be for another half hour or so. 

Clint let out a low whistle. "Number eleven is pretty good, huh?" He looked at Kate, who nodded and smiled. 

"Better watch out, old man," Kate said, digging her elbow into Clint's ribs. "You might have some serious competition coming your way. We both know I already blow you out of the water."

"Sure, Katie-Kate," Clint said with a sharp laugh, "keep on telling yourself that." 

Bucky just grinned and ruffled Harley's hair. "Feelin' okay, kiddo?"

"Little nervous," Harley admitted. "Nothing too bad." He picked at the grip on Kate's old bow. "Wondering how I'm going to do compared to all of them."

"Don't worry too much about it," Clint said easily. "This is your first competition. Remember, your primary goal here is to see what it's like and to see what the other kids your age can do. Secondary goal is to see how you do against them. Tertiary goal is to try and nab a place at the top." Clint winked, and Harley nodded, but his shoulders lost a little of their tension. 

"You'll do great," Kate said with a wide grin. "Don't sweat it, and just remember to breathe." She threw her arm around Harley's shoulders, and he relaxed into her side. Bucky was happy. Harley deserved friends he could feel comfortable around. And he needed someone he could go to when he needed physical affection. Fuck knew Bucky couldn't manage that often. Natasha gave Bucky a small smile, though half her face was covered by a pair of giant sunglasses. He smiled back. 

Steve and Peggy wandered over, Frankie sitting on Steve's shoulders. "Hey, guys," Steve said. He passed Bucky a styrofoam cup of lemonade, then gave one to Clint, Harley, Kate, and Nat. 

"Hey, Frankie!" Clint said, reaching up to poke at her side. She squealed with delight and smacked Clint's hand away. "What do you say, squirt, you wanna learn how to do this?" He waved a hand at the small kids running around with their own tiny bows clutched in their hands or with their parents holding them and watching with fond, tolerant smiles. 

"Lord, no," Steve said, smacking his face with his palm. 

"Please don't put that idea in her head," Peggy said with a soft sigh. 

"No!" Frankie shouted gleefully, but it sounded very much like a yes to Bucky. Clint held up his hand, and Frankie smacked her palm to his. 

"We'll get you a slingshot to start with, how about that?" Clint asked with a wide grin. Steve and Peggy both sighed, but they didn't say no. 

"No!" Frankie shouted again and clapped her hands where she bounced on Steve's shoulders. "Shot!"

"Steve, I think Frankie likes that word way too much," Bucky said with an amused smile. 

"Trust me, Buck, I'm well aware," Steve said, half amused. "It's about the only word she says these days." 

"She'll grow out of it," Peggy said. "Probably won't take long." She reached up and squeezed Frankie's ankle with a soft smile. Peggy looked to Harley. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Harley said, a little bit glum. He was watching as the last of the previous group was ushered from the shooting point and volunteers went on the field to remove the arrows and move all the targets further back. 

"Breathe," Natasha commanded, her voice gentle but firm. To Bucky's surprise, Harley obeyed immediately, sucking in a slow, deep breath, holding it, and releasing it slowly. Kate took his bow, and he shook out his arms. He repeated the breathing exercise, then stretched his arms high above his head. After a third breath, Kate smiled and gave him his bow. Bucky squeezed his shoulder, and Harley gave him a small smile. It was much more reassuring. 

"Looks like it's time to get lined up," Clint said. "Come on, I'll go with you. Kate can show everyone else where to stand for the best view." He winked at Harley, who gave him a nod in return, and they set off together. 

"You really think he has a good chance?" Peggy asked Kate, polite but a little more down to earth. Bucky had crashed a couple of Harley's practices, though, to get him used to having people watch him shoot. He knew Harley was good. Even if Harley wasn't as good as some of the other kids here, he was still awesome in Bucky's opinion. 

"I do," Kate said with a nod. She wasn't smiling as she considered Peggy. She hadn't met Peggy before today, though she'd met Steve once already. "Harley has skill. The problem with competing isn't whether or not he has skill, though, it's how his skill holds up when he's under pressure. This isn't a big event, but it's his first. I did horribly at my first event. Didn't get dead last, but it wasn't much higher. Harley is way better than I was at breathing through his shots and focusing, though, so he should come out with a pretty good indicator of where he is compared to everyone else. Clint and I have a bet, you know? I bet him pizza for a week's worth of dinners that Harley would place in the top three. If Harley doesn't get in the top three, I have to pay up. If he does, Clint has to." She grinned. 

"Clint wins either way," Bucky said with a snort. 

"True," Kate said with a shrug. She began to lead them over to the roped-off viewing section. There were only about ten kids in Harley's age group who were competing, and there weren't many people in the area. Bucky was grateful. He still didn't do so well with crowds. He was working on it, though. This time last year, he might have been able to show up to the event, but he never would have been able to surround himself with people like this. Two years ago, he wouldn't have come at all. He had to get his shit together, though. He was starting at Brooklyn College in the fall. 

"I'll match that bet," Steve said proudly, and Bucky's heart swelled. "I bet Harley will get in the top three. It works by age brackets, right?"

"Mostly," Kate said, waving her hand in a so-so gesture. "There is a system in place to award overall positions in the competition, too, based on a lot of different stuff. It's complicated, though." 

Two sharp whistles rang out, and all ten kids stepped up to their marks to get ready to shoot. After a pause, another whistle blew, and all the kids shot six arrows back to back in their allotted time frame. The kids stepped back, and someone indicated it was okay for them to go and collect their arrows and tally up their sums. It was hard to see exactly how well Harley had done, but none of his arrows hard strayed any further than the blue, and most, it seemed to Bucky, had landed in the yellow. Once all the kids were back at the shooting end, people went out to mark the targets with markers. Then the process began again. 

"How many ends are there?" Bucky asked. 

"Ten, for them," Kate answered. "And they're shooting at fifty yards. The age bracket before them shot at thirty yards and only had five ends. The next bracket, mine, will shoot twenty ends at the full eighty yards." 

"That's a large difference," Peggy said, a hint of surprise in her voice. 

Kate only shrugged, and they watched the next end. None of Harley's arrows went further than the red, and Bucky grinned fiercely. For the next three ends, it was mostly the same, but more and more of Harley's arrows stayed grouped in the yellow. 

"Harley's definitely better than some of the others," Natasha said quietly. "Two of them haven't managed to hit the yellow at all, and three of the others besides them have only landed three or four arrows there total."

"His biggest competition is the kid in red," Bucky said with a nod. Natasha agreed with a slurp of her lemonade. He looked to Kate. "When will we know the results?"

"We have to wait until the judges get the targets and make sure the sums are right and then compare them. If there's a tie, there might be a tiebreaker." She turned away from the viewing area, and everyone followed her as she led the way toward where Harley and Clint would be waiting for them. "That usually takes about twenty minutes or so. Then they'll announce it right before the next bracket begins."

Bucky spotted Harley and immediately crushed him into a suffocating hug. "I am so damn proud of you, kid," he murmured into Harley's hair. "You did amazing.

"Thanks," Harley said, his grin wide and a little lopsided. He looked at Kate. "I kept breathing, like you said. It's never felt so calm before. Like nothing else mattered."

Kate laughed. "Oh yeah," she agreed with a nod, then swooped in to hug Harley herself. "That's totally normal and you probably won't ever get away from it now. Feels like you're floating, doesn't it?" Harley nodded. 

"Never diss the archery high," Clint said with a whoop. 

"Oh yeah!" Kate jumped on Clint's back, and though he let out a soft  _ oof _ noise, he caught her and held her. "Steve said he was going to match my bet that Harley got in the top three, but he never said with what." 

"Beer," Steve said immediately. "And non-alcoholic cocktails for anyone underage. And Bucky." Bucky punched Steve with the metal hand in his over-inflated bicep. 

"Sweet!" Clint said, fist-pumping the air. "We'll have a barbecue on the roof of my building. It'll be great. Invite everyone. We gotta celebrate Harley's first competition anyway."

"Absolutely," Bucky said, agreeing without hesitation. "I'll bring the good liquor." He hesitated, then added, "And I'll make the drinks, too. I used to be a bartender, after all." He hadn't told anyone about his acceptance, yet, or that he'd officially quit Luke's, unless Luke needed him for an emergency. 

Steve was the first one to catch on. He whipped his head to the side. "Used to be?" He paused. "Did you find a new job?" The question was slow and careful. It didn't quite grate on Bucky's nerves, but if he thought about it too much, it probably would have. 

"Nope," Bucky said, and drank the last of the lemonade in his cup. "I'm starting at Brooklyn College this fall. Computer science. I figure I learned enough of that shit in the military to get me pretty damn far. Can't be all that hard, right?"

Steve's eyes were wide with shock, but it was Peggy who reacted first, reaching out to squeeze Bucky's right arm. "Good." Her nod of approval felt nice. 

"It's about time," Natasha said, a small smile curving at her lips. 

"Well, shit," Clint said with a happy laugh. "I don't even know how to hook up a Playstation the right way. I know who I'll call from now on." His wide grin was infectious, and Bucky found himself mirroring it. 

"God, your old," Harley muttered. "I can do that." 

"Not everyone grew up privileged," Natasha said, a hint of a reprimand in her voice. 

Harley rolled his eyes. "The instructions are in the box. There's pictures, too, so it's not even like it takes reading." 

"I set it up for him, don't worry," Kate said, rolling her eyes also. "Do you really think I'm going to hang out all summer in an apartment with no Netflix or Hulu? Come on." Harley flashed her a smile, and she returned it. 

Natasha slipped off to the side to speak quietly with Steve and Peggy for a moment, and Clint migrated closer to Bucky. "I feel like our kids get along too well for their own good."

That startled a sharp laugh out of Bucky. "Hey, I'm certainly not going to be the one to complain." He shifted just a hair closer, inviting Clint into his personal space, and it felt good to do it. 

They hadn't done much since their date. The small party at Bucky's apartment had gone well, but it had been a bit too overwhelming for Bucky to get too close to anyone other than Harley and occasionally Natasha. But he hadn't had any panic attacks or locked himself in his bedroom to freak out over his anxiety and having so many people in his space, so he was chalking it up as a success. He and Clint were keeping anything more serious on reserve, for the moment. Neither of them wanted to get Harley's or Kate's hopes up. For all that Kate wasn't Clint's biological kid, it was clear Clint didn't give any fucks at all, and Bucky admired that about him. Clint was damned dedicated to her, and Bucky was happy they had a coffee date planned for next week before Bucky headed into his standing group therapy appointment. 

"You think they know?" Clint asked, his voice a murmur. 

"If they don't, they'll figure it out pretty quick," Bucky said with a shrug. He looked at Clint for a long moment. "We'll figure it out on Monday, yeah?" 

"Yeah," Clint said with a small, soft smile. Bucky returned it. 

It didn't take much longer for an announcer to get their attention. They gathered close to the judges' tent so they could hear a little better. They held their breath as the scores were announced, starting from the lowest and working their way to the highest. Harley's name was second to last, and Bucky squeezed Harley into a tight hug where Harley was standing in front of him. 

It was announced, formally, that Harley had won second place in his age bracket. Their little group went wild with cheers and shrill whistles as Harley walked up to get his small medal. Bucky planned to hang it up as soon as they got home. Natasha stood apart from them with Peggy by her side, and they took tons of pictures. It didn't take long for Harley to get annoyed with them all, and then he insisted they go and watch the others shoot. Kate hadn't entered this competition because she'd wanted the day to be about Harley, and Bucky thanked her for that when they had a moment more or less to themselves. Kate just smiled. 

By the end, it was just after one o'clock, and Frankie was getting hungry and a little cranky. Everyone gathered around the judges' tent for the final overall places. 

"Third place goes to…" the announcer grinned and held up the tiny trophy. The first place trophy wasn't much bigger, but it was a little more intricate. Bucky forced himself to take a breath when he realized he'd been holding it. "Harley Barnes!"

There was a split second of silence, and then Bucky hugged the stuffing out of Harley as Clint and Kate shouted and bounced around. Even Frankie joined in, screaming at the top of her lungs. 

"Holy shit, kiddo!" Bucky said, elated beyond words. "This is fuckin' amazing! Look at you!" He made himself let go and ushered Harley up to the front to go collect his trophy and smile awkwardly for a quick picture, and then they stood and clapped for the other two winners. 

"Pizza time!" Clint said, one fist in the air. "Come on, let's go get some grub. I'm  _ starving _ ."

They wandered out of the park in search of a pizza place Clint was telling Steve about. Kate and Harley were talking to each other with excited gestures, and Peggy was trying to comfort Frankie as well as she could. Natasha hung back with Bucky at the back of their group. 

"He's a good man," Bucky said quietly. 

"Yes," Natasha said with a nod. "And you may be my best friend, but Clint is my brother. If you do something to hurt him, James Barnes, I will end you, and I won't feel the slightest bit guilty."

"Yes ma'am," Bucky said with a smirk in her direction. She smacked his shoulder with the back of her hand. "Hey! I'm an invalid. Don't hit me!"

"You're an idiot," Natasha said, shaking her head. "I don't know why I put up with you. Or Clint."

"Because you love us," Bucky said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

She sighed like she was put out. "I suppose." 

Bucky just grinned. 


End file.
